The Weak's End
Author's note: This book was based entirely on the album "The Weak's End" by the band Emery. Starting with... Show full author's note »
WallsScribbles marred the pages, notes being jotted down beside them, but otherwise scenes of a catastrophic landscape screamed off the worn paper in red ink. Hidden eyes followed the crude movements of the pen, the drawl of voices all around him all blending together into a dull hum; the screeches, the whispers, it was all the same. The only thing that seemed to matter now was wounds that seemed to depict this youth's imagination, now tearing into the composition.
It would seem to anyone else that the male was frustrated as he tore the paper to shreds, letting the pieces scatter to the floor of the room, but this was what he always did with his work... Emotions set on paper. Once dry and in clear light, he destroyed them so no one could ever know what they held.
Of course, Lucian never considered that anyone would notice besides the janitors. Every day seemed the same to him. The same gibberish lectures, the same false smiles from the slaves to fashion. Even in silence, he could hear people scream behind their pencils and their mascara-tainted lashes. Everyone was sick of this, no one ever wanted to be here and act like the puppets they were, but no one ever left. It was a part of them, a family through some twisted fantasy of 'school spirit'. The Purple, the Gold, the pride; yet secrets untold... Everyone was hollow, everyone was cold. They were all one in the same, but in different bodies. Funny how no one would admit to it.
But Lucian always felt that his drawings, the ramblings he left upon clips of paper were the keys to his innermost being. They deceived him; they cut and exposed him raw. But no one here could be vulnerable. No, for if they were, they would be verbally lashed back into their places, some abstract rank unspoken yet brutally obvious. So he became like them, in his own specified ways. He cropped his straight hair in mismatched angles, put streaks of whitening bleach through the deep brown locks and almost every day they were tinted with a different color. Lucian also never showed his true eyes, always having in different colored contacts to match or conflict with his hair color of choice for the day. He felt like every day he represented someone else in a twisted way, not being one person, but many.
That suited him well enough. People said Lucian was such an extrovert, but in fact, he would avoid speaking to anyone at almost all costs. Hardly anyone, even teachers, recognized his deep voice. He had long ago built up the walls that surrounded his inner being, never letting anyone within them. The only way someone had ever seen around the facade was through his artwork. Though even that, Lucian thought with a smirk, was proclaimed as being... oh, what was the word? Oh, yes. Dark. How ironic, seeing that his name meant 'light'. But life was always a little impractical like that. People believed in 'Stereotypes'. Lucian was the personification of 'Life' and what it thought of Stereotypes.
Though there was one thing about Lucian's work that no one had ever come to understand. When he drew rooms... the windows. He always left the windows completely blank. There was no outside, no scenery. It was just that...he couldn't capture it. There was this... beautiful place in his mind, untouched by the world and there was this feeling he always got when he thought of the seaside utopia... Closing his shielded eyes, Lucian pictured it in his mind, suddenly feeling so light, so pure... like he didn't have to hide anymore... But he could never depict it on canvas, so he always left it blank.
Opening his eyes, currently colored in a metallic silver, Lucian suddenly felt trapped in the whitewashed room. The laughing, the eyes, even the air he breathed felt like it was choking him. Standing abruptly, his long, lanky form almost toppling the hard desk he forced himself to sit in, but he managed to catch it before it clambered to the tiled floor.
All eyes were suddenly on him. Straightening the desk and his own spine, Lucian cleared his face of all emotion, though panic started to rise up in his toned chest. Swallowing it like a bitter pill, he looked straight forward, allowing his vision to go out of focus and blur as he started down the isle, snatching up a pass and flashing it to the 'educator' before stepping out the door into an empty hallway.
Lucian took a few steps, making it around a corner before slamming himself back against a wall, breath coming out in shaking rasps, his head tipping toward the ceiling as if he might be able to retrieve fresh air where no one else had dwelled. But it still almost felt impossible, his body starting to shake in an invisible panic. His eyes shut against the world, Lucian slumped back against the wall, sliding to the cold, filthy floor.
Why did this always seem to happen? He felt like he was always in some sort of nightmare. Dreaming when awake. Nothing ever seemed real anymore, least of all himself. He couldn't even show them his true eyes! He was as much of a puppet as the rest... And yet he couldn't share their gaze. If he did, he feared they would all be able to see straight into him; dissect him piece by piece until there was nothing left to display.
Taking several more strained breathes; Lucian was able to finally open his silver-clad eyes, somehow feeling almost on the verge of tears yet dreadfully dry as the desert. There was such pain in his chest, it felt as if he were being pulled apart, each vein shriveling under his skin, invisible bruises marring every inch of his flesh as he was bled dry. When had such fear driven him into hiding? He could hardly remember when he took shelter behind himself.
Come get to me... he could feel his lips wording soundlessly, his soul crying out in sobs, but never heard. Here he was, an open wound, yet no one ever seemed to notice. He could scream at the top of his lungs, but it would fall upon deaf ears within the puppets of people always surrounding him. Come get to me…
Lucian let his head fall slack against the hard stone wall, eyes foggy but not from tears. But when they drew back into focus, there seemed to be a pair across from his, whispering wordlessly, I am here...
And she was. So far away, but her face spoke like any verse never could, robbing Lucian's lungs of air. She just stared at him from the other side of the hallway, her eyes like a sorrowful storm as she passed through him, yet never moving. She seemed to be shaking, quivering for an unknown fear that could not have been her own, but Lucian's as well, burning herself into his being, unblinking. And he knew that he could never forget... the way she saw straight through him, and discovered what could never be spoken.
Their moment was broken, and they were once again two different souls. She shook her head from the trance, wisps of artificially blonde hair brushing her cheeks as she, too, became plastic again. Glancing at Lucian one last time, he could feel the line that had suddenly been drawn between them ignite once more, warning never to cross its threshold. They were... different... It was Law in this world... And now anything... everything... was to be locked away, swept under the door to never be seen in the light of day. And as she sauntered away to the one who had beckoned, the key had turned, the silent sound reverberating in her footsteps.
But shouldn't he have something to say in this? Shouldn't his walls have something to say..?
Standing, Lucian looked around the corner and watched the girl who had stolen him away. How was she to justify what she had just done? Didn't she know...? He swallowed his heart in his throat, seeming almost out of breath again. Didn't she know that he had just formed everything around her? That she had taken and crumbled in a moment what he had taken a lifetime to build? Those walls... They had meant everything... Now...? Now she had taken their place.